OK, so, if you are receiving this it is because I feel you can shed some light on this particular matter, as you are all somewhat physically active in one way or another and somewhat worldly in one way or another.

I’m loving this new experience (gym), and being able to be in a different environment for an hour or so every second day.

The staff is now beginning to recognise me, and greet me, and I greet them. The guy who has put the exercise programme together for me, Brett, is a real sweety. I asked one of the other guys to call Brett on Monday and he literally jumped up from behind his desk and jogged towards me, which was probably part of his daily training but anyway, I was glad to see he was well brought up and had been taught to show respect to old folk.

… today I went for a mammo, routine, bit overdue, and Dr R, the usual suspect at the mammogram place was away but another doc was in attendance, so I had the mammo which of course is always SUCH a thrilling experience, watching one’s boobies being squashed into a shape the plastic surgeon tried really hard to change …. and then I put on the little gown again and sat down for a few minutes, and was then summoned to have an ultra sound, which they always do because there’s a bit of scar tissue, and so I went through and that too is a pleasant experience, you take off your gown exposing boobs but also the top half of your body right down to where your jeans end, and in my case it is not an overwhelmingly sexy sight, but anyway, so anyway, t*ts dangling I leapt up onto the bed thing – why don’t they have little stepladders for the short ones?

For those who have been around a while you might remember the story of the Cell phone, the Psychic and the Garden. And then the one about the Police Station, the Locksmith, his finger and the Vodka, and then of course the uterus we thought might have been abandoned on a woolies trolley, and then my official status as a split pussinality following lunch in VERY tight jeans.